


Across countless lifetimes, I will always love you

by Lyril



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Brief mention of Lahabrea and Elidibus, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Heavy Angst, M/M, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slight NSFW but nothing too explicit, Suicidal Thoughts, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyril/pseuds/Lyril
Summary: This fic is inspired by the beautiful poem "25 Lives" by Tongari.In the twelve thousand years since the Sundering, Emet-Selch had always chased after the fragments of Azem. Never were they the same but always, he fell for over and over again. Lahabrea had called this obsession madness but to Emet-Selch, it was all he had.
Relationships: Azem/Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

["The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back."]

Amaurot was gone.

Their people...gone.

Hythlodaeus...gone.

Azem...Azem...

Emet-Selch beheld the empty wreckage of their once magnificent city with hollow detachment. Lahabrea was saying something beside him, words that failed to register as his focus turned towards a broken concept crystal at his feet. He reached down to grab it, silently musing how it would feel to run his fingers across the sharp, broken edge.

A strong clap on his shoulder broke him out of his reverie and this time, Lahabrea's words registered in his mind. "We should inspect the full extent of the damage done." He nodded wordlessly in agreement because what else was there to do?

What else was there left for him?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The world had been sundered into one and thirteen reflections and the people, their people were naught but a shade of themselves. Weak. Pathetic. A complete mockery of what they once were.

He didn't think he had anything left in him to feel. But feel he did.

Anger. Rage. Fury consumed his being as he watched these...malformed creatures fumbled over the simplest of task. Fire! Created not with the magic that came so easily to them but with flints and sticks! Their beautiful language reduced to nothing but grunts! Their once towering city and rich culture replaced by caves and drawings on walls!

He clenched his fists tightly, painfully till his nails dug into flesh. Lahabrea's words once more flew passed him but there was no mistaking the selfsame disgust that had laced in them.

To think - to think his people and Hythlodaeus had sacrificed for such - !

"Emet-Selch!"

He ignored Lahabrea's calling and disappeared through his portal.

It was a nightmare. All of it, a nightmare. If he would just sleep, perhaps, perhaps once he wakes, everything would be back to normal. He would be greeted by Azem's warm smile and then by Hythlodaeus' obnoxious wakeup call through the insistent banging on his apartment door. The three of them would have breakfast together before heading to their respective offices. Then as the sun set, he would be drag out of his office and the three would share stories of their day over dinner at their favorite restaurant.

Peaceful days. Halcyon days. All of them would return if he would just sleep...

But the nightmare never ended. Even when two decades had passed, it never ended.

By then, both Lahabrea and Elidibus had come up with a way to fix all these. Ways they weren't sure would work but it was the only thing they had going. Just as Zodiark was their salvation during the Final Days, the Rejoining were theirs after.

Emet-Selch held on to it like a lifeline. It was his only hope out of this nightmare. His only hope to see them again. His loved ones. His people. His home.

But till then, he would put his entire being into their purpose and wait. Till the day they would be together again.

Thirteen crystals were created. Ten sundered brethren found and raised to their office. The Ascians were formed. Everything was in order and they would start with the thirteenth shard.

There was no mention of the Fourteenth. No plans to find a fragment of her nor any attempts were made to create a crystal for her. None. As if she did not exist. As if she's not part of the Convocation and never had been.

Emet-Selch understood their reasonings. Did not attempt to argue on her behalf. Knew that the sting of her desertion when they needed her most had continued to be a sore spot in their hearts. It had been for him. He understood but still it angered him nonetheless. Because Azem deserved more than this. Azem had fought on their behalf in her own way. Had sacrificed her life alongside others. She deserved more than this flippant disregard of her existence.

He did not say out loud such thoughts. He knew his fellow Paragons would not agree and now was not the time to sour relations. Now was not the time to argue when so much needed to be done. Wrongs needed to be righted.

And so in the privacy of his garden - their garden - now nothing but a dried, patched land, he raised his hand and gathered magic in his palm. Once the light had dispersed, all that was left in it was a small orange crystal with an engravement of the sun on it.

He brushed his thumb over the engraving, his heart ached at the sight of the familiar constellation. He wondered if a fragment of her truly existed. Because if she did, the rain would have stopped.

It hadn't been for a long time.

***

Emet-Selch had entertained the idea on what he would say, what he would do if he ever encountered the fragment of Azem in this desolate world. He imagined he would be overjoyed. He imagined he would sweep her off her feet and rained her with a thousand kisses and apologies. He had also imagined himself trembling with fury for the pain she had caused for not just him, but everyone in the Convocation as well. Bitter accusation would be thrown but ultimately, he would just be overjoyed to see her.

He had not, in his thousands of imagination thought he would be struck frozen in her presence. He had never imagined she would stare back with eyes that was a clear topaz. _Wrong_. Hair long and blond. _Wrong_. Her facial feature, different. _Wrong._

Her soul, that familiar hue that used to shine so bright and brilliantly was almost nonexistent. Dulled. Washed out. Sickly.

He should have expected this, this fragment of hers that resided in the thirteenth shard. He should have expected this considering their sundered brethren hadn't turn out the same. And yet still, every part of him was rejecting the absolute wrongness of this woman, this broken thing, standing before him.

It was not her. It could not possibly be her.

She made an inquiring sound, her head tilting to the side in confusion. _Wrong wrong wrong - !_

He gritted his teeth and stormed off.

***

Emet-Selch had not intended to watch. For all that he had decided she was not her, there was no reason to.

And yet, like a moth to the flame, he was inevitably drawn to her.

But he would not approach. He would not interact. He would remain in the shadows, watching, judging, aching at how dissimilar this fragment was to Azem yet still similar enough to bring a stab of yearning through his being.

Still, in the shadows he remained. And in the shadows he watched as she moved on in life without him, as she found a lover that was not him - _should be him_ \- and yet still, Emet-Selch had continued to stay. Even as she and her lover rutted and made love, grunts and moans filled the air in the small cave they called home. Even as her soul shined bright enough to make itself known, swirled and moved in a way that was so very familiar at every snap of her lover's hips.

_It should be him._

And then she came with a cry and his breath caught at the sight of blue filling his vision so completely, so overwhelmingly in its familiarity, tears started to gather in his eyes. He took an unknowing step forward, her name at the tip of his tongue when an uncomfortable wetness in between his legs caught his attention. He turned his eyes downward and was greeted with the sight of his tented robes and the wet spot above it.

Disgust overcame him and with a snarl, he quickly snapped his fingers to clean the mess. Anger, soon followed as he berated himself for being so completely pathetic, so wholly unbecoming, so wretchedly depraved and debauched -

Sounds of cooing halted his spiraling thoughts and he looked up to see them cuddling with smiles wide on their faces. She wrapped her arms around her lover - _it should be him_ \- and nuzzled lovingly into the crook of his neck - _it should be him_ \- . Her soul shined so radiantly -

Emet-Selch finally turned and left without a word.

When Igeyorhm destroyed the Thirteenth in her overenthusiastic haste to bring about their first Rejoining, Emet-Selch was secretly glad for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been something I'd been meaning to write in awhile now. The beautiful poem fits Emet-Selch's journey so well that I couldn't resist. I hope you enjoy. :)


	2. Chapter 2

["The next time you are brunette, and you do."]

The loss of the 13th shard put a damper on their spirits but Lahabrea, always burning ever so brightly in passion and determination, did not let it get to him. He had immediately jumped back into the drawing board and spent countless sleepless nights going through the data and refining their methods so a second loss would not happen.

Lahabrea had always been that way, burning as brightly and beautifully as his countless creations.

There were times Emet-Selch had felt envious of the older man, be that he had even a smidgen of that burning passion within.

Whatever fire that he harbored had long since extinguished alongside the place he once called home. The place he often found himself in, sitting on a fallen boulder, watching the sun set in the horizon. Elidibus would often joined him there, having tire of Lahabrea's incessant mumblings, and together they would watch in companionable silence.

There, with the sunset's rays touching the fallen rubbles of their once magnificent city, of their home, was where they remembered their purpose and their weakening resolve renewed.

There, where he would reminisce about the past and tried to hold on to the memory of how her touch felt like.

And there, a single touch, just the barest of brushes on his cheek had yank forth memories of long ago. Of soft caresses and whispered words. Of tender kisses and loving arms. Of comfort and safety.

Of love.

She was a brunette this time. _Wrong_. Her eyes, a deep set of amber. _Wrong_. Her cat ears twitched in nervousness as he studied her. _Wrong._ Her lips tugged into a sheepish smile, revealing a pair of small canines. _Wrong._

And despite all that, Emet-Selch had smiled back.

***

She was feisty in ways Azem was not. She was wild in ways Azem was not. She was unrefined in ways Azem was not. Her hair always in a mess. The drab of cloth these mortals called clothes were worn and torn. Dust and dirt always clung to her sun kissed skin.

...Those were familiar. As did her huge smiles and courageous spirit. As did her boundless energy and endless kindness. As did her fathomless desire for adventure.

For every dissimilarity, he could name one similarity.

She wasn't her but it was enough.

Her soul had not shined as brightly but it was enough.

He found something to love in all her imperfections. And most importantly, she had loved him in return.

For the first time in a century since the sundering, Emet-Selch had found a measure of peace in her. For the first time, he felt something close to happiness.

"Hajeeees!"

He looked up from the campfire to see her waving at him by the river, all wide excited smiles and a freshly caught fish speared at the tip of her crudely made spear. His name butchered horribly and yet, he could only smile, joyous in the fact that it was the only word she could speak. The only word she had worked the hardest to out of so many he had attempted to teach her on.

It was fine. This was fine.

He gestured at the campfire, blazing and ready for her catch. She ran excitedly to him and passed him the trashing fish.

"Only one, my dear?" He frowned, eyeing the size of the fish. It was clear it wasn't big enough for her, much less for the both of them.

Still...

He glanced sideways at her, at how she was literally trying but failing to contain her excitement as she bounced on the balls of her feet, eagerly awaiting his praise and approval.

Ah, who was he to deny her that.

"Let's eat, shall we?" He waved the fish for emphasis, brow raised with a wide smile.

She beamed blindingly, her soul dazzling enough to catch his breath, and nodded in equal enthusiasm. She plopped down by his side, watching in rapt attention as he skillfully cleaned the fish with a magically created knife, soft instructions filled the space between them.

Yes, this was enough.

Until the first Rejoining happened ahead of schedule and she died in a typhoon that landed directly on the cave she - they - called home.

He hadn't even been able to bring her to safety in time, much too late to do anything but watched in despair as the typhoon swallowed up everything and everyone in the area.

The fifth shard fell and the first Calamity struck the Source with raging tempests, unforgiving typhoons and crushing hurricanes.

The first Rejoining.

Their very first success that kindled the flames of hope for a world, their home, returned. His fellow brethren rejoiced and celebrated, patting each other on the back.

But there was no joy in Emet-Selch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter update but I'll be updating the next one in a few days.  
> Thanks for reading, always!


	3. Chapter 3

["After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything.

Because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you."]

It became a habit of sort for Emet-Selch.

Give or take a few decades and he would roam the world in search of her soul. And he would succeed every time, finding it being housed inside vessels that were never the same. The color of their hair was always of a different hue, their eyes representing a different gem, their race myriad and their personalities, different.

Each one of them holding small but obvious similarities with Azem, each one of them he found himself falling for over and over, even if some didn't love him back.

Those were always hard.

But he didn't let it get to him. He was determined to not let what happened the first time happened again. That embarrassingly disgusting moment of weakness that he was adamant in forgetting.

Never

Instead, he would be their best friend and confidant. Always being there for them in whatever capacity they needed. Encouraging. A comforting presence. A shoulder to lean on.

It had hurt but it was better than nothing. He had preferred it over knowing she did not exist at all.

Those were the hardest.

He had encountered those lifetimes. Searching for years, from across the land and sea, and ultimately failing.

But he tried not to let despair consume him whole. He poured everything he had into working towards the Ardor. He pushed thoughts about Azem's shard entirely from the recesses of his mind. He would focus on the goal, on the ultimate reward of seeing her, the true her again.

But sometimes, when the night was cold and unbearably dark. When he laid wide awake on his too large bed and stared out through the window and at the constellations above. When his heart was a chasm of loneliness and himself falling endlessly into it. He would think of her and wondered if she was staring up at the same sky as he did. He would wonder what she was doing and if she had missed him as much as he was missing her.

Ah. What a fool he was to forget. Azem's shard did not exist anywhere. And if she did and he had somehow missed her, she continued to live, always, without a single memory of him. Of them.

He would then curled into himself and sobbed into his pillow because regardless of the answers, he was, had been, and always would be alone.

* * *

Mitron and Loghrif. How very enviable.

He watched from his island at the two Ascians, their laughter filling the still air of the Chrysalis, leaning against each other as if being apart physically hurt. A sentiment he understood all too well.

Their love for one another dated all the way back before the Sundering. Their people used to celebrate their bond with joy. The Convocation was exasperated but still accepted it with a smile and the occasional teasing.

There was only envy now in Emet-Selch as he watched them.

He had, in too many an occasion, considered ascending Azem’s shard the same way he had ascended his sundered brethren. But always, at the last moment, he would stay his hands.

What if she hated him still? What if she was disgusted by what she saw of the things he had committed, and the world as it was now? A world sundered because of his failure to stop Venat. A world broken because he had not noticed until Hydaelyn appeared in the sky and their world burned.

What would she think of him now?

But fear of her judgment was nothing compared to the fear of seeing her just as broken as they were. To bear that selfsame burden on her shoulders, to grief for her losses, to work endlessly without any end in sight to fix a mistake that wasn't even her own.

No. He couldn't have her suffer through that. Ignorance had always been bliss, even if he had to live without her ever remembering him. Even if he had to watch her die tragically, long before her mortal time was up. Even if he had, in his weakest, let slip a nudge or two to see her reaction, hints like his real name, only to come out disappointed.

Another laugh, another glance their way, and Emet-Selch had enough of their sickly display of affection. He turned to leave, his own heart weighted heavier than ever.

What he wouldn't give to have her by his side once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one but I promise the next one is triple the length! I should be able to get that up in the weekend. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter touches on some dark topic and the tags had been updated accordingly. Please take note in case you're uncomfortable with any of them.

["I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,  
when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.  
I love how you play along with my bad ideas, before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.  
(And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)  
When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.  
Yet, always, you forgive me."]

Centuries.

It had been centuries of unbearable loneliness before Emet-Selch saw that hue again, in the heart of the Empire he was building. It was entirely by accident when he stumbled upon her on the streets, her bright green hair shined under the sunlight.

He quickened his pace and put on his winning smile, one he was sure Hythlodaeus would be proud of. But cordial words of greeting died when he came face to face with the shard, when his brain came to a screeching halt at the sight of her.

No. Him.

"Are you alright there, sir?" The Elezen man, no, boy tilted his head to the side in query. When Emet-Selch had continued to remain in stunned silence, red dusted his freckled cheeks and the boy scratched the side of his face in self-awareness. "Erm, if there is nothing else, I guess I should just, you know, go..." He started to walk away but Emet-Selch reached out to grab the boy's arm in an almost automated response.

"Don't." He said before he could process the words that slipped through his mouth. Azem's shard stopped in his tracks and turned back to him with stunning emerald eyes, curious and a bit cautious. Emet-Selch cleared his throat and released his hold on the boy's thin arm. "My apologies to have startled you. Please allow me this chance to do this properly." Winning smile and a gracious bow in place, he introduced himself. Not as Emet-Selch, the Ascian. Not as Hades, the Ancient. But as the court adviser, the identity he assumed in this lifetime.

It's better this way. Better for pretense and none of the emotional baggage that came with the past and who they truly were.

Just a boy meeting the world for the first time and a court adviser of the empire.

A fitting tale for the ages.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Compared to the other shards, Idant was the least like Azem. He was shy. _Wrong_. He was timid. _Wrong_. He preferred his books than the great outdoors. _Wrong_.

But he was just equally as kind and compassionate. Equally as gentle. And despite being male this time, Emet-Selch couldn't find it in himself to care.

Azem was still Azem, no matter how different. And he had loved every one of them.

But his brothers did not agree.

"This is madness, Emet-Selch!" Lahabrea shouted from his island across the Chrysalis. "How many times must you err from your duties for the sake of one miserable shade? How many times must we suffer through your silly sentimentality?"

"I did not err from my duties, Lahabrea." Emet-Selch replied with a voice coated in ice, his arms crossed over his chest. "I am forever hard at work to bring about the next Rejoining. Might I remind you that it was to my credit that we had successfully achieved the second not too long ago?"

"And I am certain there was no need of me to point out how dedicated you were then without your attention being consumed wholly by the pathetic shadow of a traitor."

"She was not a traitor." Emet-Selch hissed, temper flaring at the accusation. "Azem did everything she could to save the Star and died for it. She certainly did not deserve such insults!"

"Perhaps I should remind you once more of the undeniable fact that she had deserted us when we needed her most!"

Emet-Selch took a step forward, scathing reply ready when Elidibus' calm voice cut in through the tension like a knife through butter.

"My brothers, please. Now is not the time for us to fight amongst each other when we all stand to lose more from it." Elidibus turned to Emet-Selch. "But I share in Lahabrea's sentiment, Emet-Selch. Your obsession with her fragments is concerning. Far be it for me to stop you but I would advise caution less you fall deeper into despair. They are, after all, mortals."

Anger churned deep within Emet-Selch even though he saw truth in Elidibus' words. In Lahabrea's. They were worried, in their own way. Worried for his sanity. Worried he would jeopardize their mission.

He had not forgotten his duty. How could he when he carried the hopes and dreams of his people. How could he when he looked at these mortals and despaired over the sickly state of their souls that used to shine brightly.

But they had no right to take what little solace he could find in life from him. Even if they were but mere shards, broken and fragmented, they were still her. And he would never stopped loving her.

His Unsundered brothers did not understand and that gave them no right to meddle in his business. Not when they had their own sanity to care for. Already he could see Lahabrea's own slowly slipping away, his once strong soul now frayed and damaged from countless body hopping. And Elidibus had shown signs of forgetting.

Soon, he would lose them as well.

Gritting his teeth, Emet-Selch summoned a portal and turned to it. "Perhaps you should start worrying about yourselves first before others." He said over his shoulders before teleporting away.

***

"Now where exactly are you taking me?" Emet-Selch asked in a huff of laughter, allowing himself to be dragged out of town and into the thick forestry outside.

"You'll see." Came Idant's reply, his young voice brimming in excitement as he continued to drag Emet-Selch by the arm through thick foliage and towering trees.

They finally arrived at a clearing filled at every ilm of land with bluebell flowers. Rays of sunshine shined through the gap from above, hitting the petals just enough to make them glimmer.

It wasn't the most beautiful of gardens, certainly nothing compared to the days of eld, but it was enough to make Emet-Selch paused in his steps, eyes slightly wide in awe.

"I stumbled upon this place when I came here to gather herbs." Idant explained, kneeling to have a closer look at the flowers. "Well, stumble isn't the right word. Lost would be more fitting." He laughed sheepishly in self-awareness as Emet-Selch shook his head in mock exasperation.

“I am entirely unsure on whether I should be thoroughly bemused or cross at that information.”

Idant could only laugh in reply as Emet-Selch sat beside him, shoulders barely touching. A respectable distance but close enough for Emet-Selch to feel the other’s warmth.

“I had wanted to show you this place for a while now.” Idant said, falling back to sit as well, his gaze swept across the flowers with a soft smile. “It’s peaceful and I know you would benefit from it, considering how hectic your work has been lately.”

“I…” Emet-Selch swallowed, his heart hammering against his chest. “I am grateful you had thought to share this secret place with me.” _And had me in your thoughts_.

Idant’s cheeks flushed and he laughed sheepishly once more, emerald eyes turned to him. Eyes he could get lost in. “Do you like it?”

“I do.”

“Then I pray that it would bring you peace and happiness.” Idant’s smile was warm and radiant. The sunlight from above cast his features in an ethereal light, his soul a beautiful and breathtaking blue.

Before he knew it, Emet-Selch had leaned forward to capture those lips in his. And when Idant had shyly kissed him back, Emet-Selch knew no greater peace and happiness.

***

Back in the days of eld, when the world was whole and their people live in peace, the word ‘sodomy’ and all the connotation surrounding it did not exist. Everyone was free to love whoever they so desire without any kind of judgment from the public. But here in this age, when the power of the Church had grown so considerably, these fumbling mortals in all their imperfection had brought on a whole new low.

Ignorance bred contempt. Contempt bred destruction. And the world suffered for it. People caught in the act was punished severely and repeated offense would be sent straight to the stake to be burned alive before the eyes of spectators.

It was disgustingly barbaric beyond words and only served to prove to Emet-Selch how utterly disappointing these pathetic lifeforms were. How underserving they were to inherit the Star. How necessary it was for them to continue pursuing the Ardor.

While Emet-Selch had indeed orchestrated the Church's rise in power and the subsequent holy wars that followed, he had no hand in this. And it angered him all the more when Idant had shared his fear to him in their secluded garden of bell flowers and the proposal to end what they had. To return back to being friends.

Not for his sake, no but for Emet-Selch's.

With his anger finally getting a hold of him, Emet-Selch had pushed Idant down and crushed their lips together in a desperate need to show him that it didn't matter what the world said. It didn't matter what people thought of them. Nothing else mattered but them and their love for one another.

It was the biggest mistake he had ever made.

***

It was but a simple, innocent request.

A single day's ride to the town west of the city on his rest day, chuckling in amusement as he bought the grapes Idant had asked for. He only hesitated for a moment before teleporting back to the city instead of riding, excitement thrumming in his veins at the prospect of seeing the young man's face as he stuffed them into his mouth.

He had wondered if he would look like Azem did when she had her mouthful of the grapes she had so painstakingly save. Would Idant sigh in bliss the same way, eyes closed and lips tugged wide?

He had imagined a lot of things. A whole different scenarios.

He had not expected the chaos when he landed at a dark corner nearby the city square, away from prying eyes.

He had not expected the crowd gathering at the square, murmuring and whispering about the latest offense. Words like rebels and assassination attempt, of witchcraft and sodomy, of using magic to seduce the court advisor. Nightmarish words that made his heart sunk.

The bag of grapes fell, forgotten from his slacked grip. He took a shaky step forward, then another and then he was pushing through the crowds with heart pounding loudly in his ears, a prayer at the tip of his tongue in hopes it was not him. Not Idant.

But it made sense. All those nights Idant would return home late, heavy dark bags under his eyes. All those times Idant looked as if he wanted to tell Emet-Selch something but never did. All those times his questions had been brushed off effortlessly by the younger man when prodded, giving him nothing but a laugh.

And the sudden request for grapes...and the way their love making the night before had a tinge of sadness to it.

No…not Idant. Never Idant.

But who else could it be? Who else could stage a rebellion if not from the most righteous soul in existence? Fragmented but still ultimately her. It made sense but Emet-Selch was too blind, too afraid to acknowledge facts that he had always known. Too afraid to face the same scenario from repeating as it did millennia ago.

Lovers standing on opposite sides.

Lovers separated by difference in values, and the decisions they made.

And now he stood to witness the consequences. But there was still time. He could still save Idant from this cruelty. He raised his arm, fingers at the ready to snap but strong hands grabbed at his arms and hauled him back.

“His Excellence has demanded your silence, my Lord.” A soldier whispered into his ear and Emet-Selch’s blood ran cold in his veins. “Should you take any action, His Excellence could no longer guarantee your safety.”

The reality of the situation came crashing down upon Emet-Selch and he knew, he _knew_ the truth behind the soldier’s words. Magic was considered heresy and he knew that. Saving Idant would expose everything and jeopardize his entire work. His plans for the next Ardor would be in shambles and he would be forced to start anew.

He…couldn’t do it. He desperately wanted to but his duty to his people had stayed his hands.

And so he had no choice but to watch in horror, his beloved tied on the stake, eyes defiant even when the flames started to reach his feet.

He should not have encouraged this relationship. He should not have put it in Idant's head a reason to fight for the cause. For them. He should simply just kept it a secret and all would be fine. Or agreed with the original proposal of ending it.

If he did, if he did...he didn't have to watch him get burned alive before him, not a scream left his thinned lips even when the flames had started to engulf him.

Since when had Idant gotten so strong? Since when had that timid, shy man became so courageous? It was only yesterday he was still blushing over a single kiss, still flustered over his touch. But now he braved the flames like they were nothing. Like what he did was not wrong.

It was not.

It was not!

But there was nothing he could do. Nothing...once again, as he watched him die just the same way he had watched Azem died. The same way he watched the others died.

Helpless.

Feelings made all the worst when Idant's eyes met his and instead of hatred, there was only relief and a final smile.

And when the flames had died down and the square empty of anyone but him and Idant's ashes, Emet-Selch had fell to his knees, shaking hands reaching forward to grasp two fistful of ashes in them. Angry tears cascaded down his cheeks and he pressed his fists against his forehead.

His fault.

When the world burned to usher in the advent of the Third Calamity, he had felt it fittingly poetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was particularly hard for me to write but considering the time period they were in, the idea felt fitting. And served to move the story forward. I hope the content wasn't too dark. ^^;; Thank you for reading, always!


	5. Chapter 5

["As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,  
and the ones where we just, barely, never meet."]

Emet-Selch had not visited the ruins of his home in a long time. But when his mind was in shambles and his heart heavy from his most recent loss, he found himself returning to it. To gain some measure of comfort. To remember his purpose. To renew his determination.

But even when the sunset's orange rays touched the desolate wasteland, he couldn't find the strength needed to move on to another day.

Thousands of years and already, he had felt the wear and tear of time on his psych. His sanity. Millennia and already, he was tired and there were 9 more shards to go. Not even remotely close to the end.

How long more did he have to soldier on? How many more deaths would it take to finally break him? How much more suffering did he have to endure in order to see her again?

He buried his face into his hands and exhaled sharply, the beginning signs of a sob caught in his tightening throat.

Millennia had seen him build empires only to bring it down. Millennia had seen him searched for her soul and falling ever more deeply every time. Millennia had seen him love and lose, love and lose, over and over again.

He was so tired...

Perhaps Lahabrea was right. Perhaps this was madness after all.

Perhaps, he should give up. Close his heart till duty's end, pour everything he had into his work. The sooner they complete the Rejoining, the sooner he could see her...the real her again.

He took a shuddering breath in, lifting his head to cast tired gaze across the expanse of his once beloved home once more. Greeneries had already covered parts of the ruins, greeneries that reminded him of the times he had ran his fingers through green hair, stared into equally green eyes.

The smell of burning bodies and last smiles caught him completely unawares, leaving him shaking with cold sweat, heart hammering against his chest as his breath came out in harsh pants. He rubbed his eyes against the heel of his trembling hands, trying desperately to push the images away, to calm his body from hyperventilating.

Breathe. Breathe.

It felt like an eternity had passed before his breathing eventually normalized and the images had left naught but a deep ache in his chest. Curling into himself, thoughts of abandoning this mad chase for her ghost returned to the forefront once more.

Perhaps it was for the best.

***

Lahabrea was not pleased when Emet-Selch had announced his temporary unavailability for the next century or ten. But the older man had nothing to counter when presented with the hard, undeniable fact that Emet-Selch had, indeed, brought about another Ardor. And thus, this rest he wanted was well earned.

Not that he needed their permission in anything. Emet-Selch had felt it imperative to emphasize the point that there were to be no interrupting his rest save for the untimely death of either of them. Or both. However unlikely that was to happen.

Elidibus had said nothing but a nod and the lack of emotions in once expressive eyes made the burgeoning despair in Emet-Selch's chest expanded even more. With a quick turnabout, he made a flippant flick of his wrist as he disappeared into the rift to start his long and much needed rest.

***

Allag was magnificent. His greatest work yet. Something that came the closest to the glory days of Amaurot. The Allagans were people that almost, almost convinced Emet-Selch that not all was lost. That these fragmented, broken creatures had the capacity to reach their height.

But it still wasn't enough. They were still lacking in so many things, still so pitifully short sighted. Greedy in their need for more. Trampling over others in their mad dash for glory. For fame. For recognition.

Pathetic really.

Still, Emet-Selch was proud of his handiwork. For the first time, he had poured his all into it, sharing knowledge that these greedy beings clung to like a man starved. Technology that no longer exist had been revitalized, improved upon and it had been fascinating day by day to see what the Allagans would come up with.

Elidibus had once again shown his concern that the Allagans might have improved too fast, developed too far, made it too impossible for them to control. But Emet-Selch had brushed his worry aside with a casual wave of his hand for he knew, have lived among these mortals long enough to know that the higher they climb, the farther they fall.

It was only a matter of time before the Allagans in their hubris would soon follow in the footsteps of those that came before them.

Another step towards their ultimate goal.

And he looked ever forward to that. The end of his long service to his people. Perhaps once this was done, he could finally retire and live on an island somewhere, away from people with no one but Azem by his side.

Azem...

It's been...a long time since he thought of her. Having pushed thoughts of her to the back of his mind upon wakening, he had put himself completely into his work, tiring himself to the limit till there was no time nor any energy left to think of anything else.

But this one sudden thought came unbidden as he sipped his wine, staring at the glow of the Crystal Tower outside his window.

Blue. How ironic.

He idly wondered if it was an unconscious slip from his part when he suggested the use of blue crystals during the tower's conception. He had also started to wonder if there were other unintentional slip from him that referenced her.

Azem...he wondered where she was now. If she even...existed. He certainly had not seen her hue in anyone since Idant - ignoring the fact that he hadn't exactly been looking.

Had forced himself not to look.

It was fine. This was fine.

He chugged the rest of the wine down in one go and proceeded to exchange his empty glass for the bottle itself as he headed towards his bed.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Shouts and screams filled the air. Buildings collapsing as the very earth itself was torn asunder, swallowing everything in its path.

The streets of the once great city were filled with people trying to run to safety, pushing and shoving as they cared naught for anything but their very own lives. Another earthquake shook the ground, another loud piercing cry followed, another round of screams as more people fell to the abyss.

As expected, the glory of Allag was coming to an end. And with it, the arrival of the 4th Calamity.

Emet-Selch watched it all unfold from the sky, fists clenched tight as he tried desperately to hold his memories at bay. To not be triggered by the similarities. He was about to turn to leave but something caught his attention at the corner of his eyes. A splash of color in an otherwise dull, grey world.

His heart skipped a beat and he whirled around, eyes immediately fixated on that achingly familiar hue.

_No._

Another earthquake shook the earth, another loud crack echoed across the air, another tall building fell victim as it crashed onto another, sending piles of rubble and debris down to the fleeing mortals below.

To her.

_No no._

Emet-Selch conjured a hasty portal and when he arrived on the other side, to her side, it was to witness the sight of her getting crushed by a fallen boulder.

_No no no!_

He rushed forth, snapping his fingers desperately and the boulder dispersed into aether, leaving her broken and bloody on the ground.

_Please no!_

He gently cradled her in his arms - a child...just a child! - healing magic already at work to fix what it could even if one look over her broken body was enough to know it was too late.

"D-don't..." His voice cracked, body trembling in agony, pushing forth tears to run down his cheeks. To once again be so helpless to do anything. To once again be incapable of saving her, despite possessing the power of creation itself.

_Why does this keep happening?!_

Her eyes parted slightly, enough for him to see the color of gold staring back. Her lips parted as if to say something but before she could, the light left her eyes and she went completely limp in his arms.

He didn't even know her name...

["I hate those."]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating weekly since this fic is basically finished (still need to revise some part in the second last chapter). Thanks for reading, always!


	6. Chapter 6

["I prefer the ones in which you kill me."]

Emet-Selch was at his wits end.

He had thought seeking her shard out, being with them was what ultimately brought about their tragic demise. He had purposely avoided her this lifetime for that very reason, believing - hoping - they would be able to live long and not get caught in the crossfire that came from their work.

And yet the end remained the same.

It was a thought, a single fleeting, desperate thought that wonder, maybe...just maybe...if he were to stop pursuing the Ardor, perhaps they wouldn’t need to die. Perhaps those fleeting sense of peace and happiness would last longer.

Then he would look at the ruins before him, at the heaps of corpses and the child in his arms and remembered the senseless death and destruction wrought by his own hands. The blood that would never wash away.

Was it…worth it?

"Another job well done."

Emet-Selch turned to find Elidibus walking out of his portal, a smile on the other man's face. One that turned downward when he saw the body of the child Emet-Selch was still carrying in his arms.

"That child..."

He didn't know what got into him but suddenly, a sense of protectiveness for the child hit even though she had long since passed, her cold body heavy in his arms. He tightened his hold on her as if Elidibus' mission here was to take her from him.

"Is of no consequence." Came his curt reply.

Elidibus hummed but made no further comment. He turned to the wreckage before them with dispassionate eyes.

"What a pitiful sight, to see a nation so great be brought down to its knee by a calamity in a single day."

Like Amaurot.

"Elidibus."

The Emissary turned to him with a tilt of his head.

There were a lot of things he had wanted to say, even more he wanted to ask. Things that worried him, had been worrying him for a while now. But he didn't want to aggravate the younger man with them, a man whom he had always seen as a younger brother. And so he settled with something simpler and generic.

"Do you remember our home?"

Elidibus had not given him an immediate answer but when he did, his face had morphed to one of distress. "I...do now. Thank you, Emet-Selch."

Emet-Selch frowned further in concern, the other's reply did not do anything to alleviate it one bit. He took a step forward and gave him a meaningful look. "You should use your crystal more often."

The smile the Emissary was giving him was one of force but Emet-Selch knew well enough not to push. "I shall keep your advice in mind."

Emet-Selch nodded and begun to walk away, a portal appearing before him.

"I will be taking my rest."

"For another century?"

"For as long as I need." He replied over his shoulder before stepping into his portal, catching Elidibus' brief reply of "Very well." before being ported away.

The Emissary was not the only one needing a reminder. He did as well. Tried as he might, there were certain things he was already forgetting. How the willows in the garden looked like during sunsets. How the pie she loved so tasted like. How walking down the street in the morning was like.

Simple things. Everyday things. Things his crystal never contained. Things he should not have forgotten.

And yet he was, slowly but surely.

Along with her touch, her voice, her smile, the way his name rolled across her tongue, the way she kissed him.

None of her shards ever kissed him the same way. None of them ever called his name...his real name.

Would he even forget his real name when enough time had passed? Would he even forget who he was, considering how many personas he had donned on when he posed as someone else?

Would he forget her completely, considering her shards were never truly like her?

Would his perception of her be twisted, an amalgamation put roughly together from the bits and pieces he had obtained from her shards?

He had loved every one of them, even the one he was burying right now outside the capital of Allag, in a patch of land that was still green. He did not know her but his heart already bled from every pile of dirt he shoveled into her grave.

They weren't her but...he loved them all the same.

They weren't her but...he didn't find it in himself to care.

They weren't her but...it was all he had.

It was all he had but...watching them die had become so much harder than an existence without.

Ah, what a mess he had become.

***

The 5th calamity came and went. And Emet-Selch had slept through it all before being rudely awaken by their favorite Emissary. Centuries of rest and still, it wasn't enough. Bone deep weariness continued to cling to his very being, dragging him down, putting more weight to his already burgeoning shoulders.

Already he wished for it all to end. Already he wondered how long more did he need to labor on. Already he begun to question the worth but that was a thought that never went far.

And so he soldier on with more bite to his personality, more bitterness to the hand he had been dealt with, more anger at the uncaring world and more hatred to these malformed creatures that was a complete mockery of what they were once.

Their next plan for the 6th Rejoining had provided Emet-Selch with the perfect outlet for his raging emotions.

Magic had always flowed naturally through him. Calling upon them had been as easily as breathing. And there were few others in the days of eld that could really match him in terms of mastery and pure might.

The war of the magi was the perfect arena for a sorcerer of eld to unleash his powers upon the world, chaos and destruction a fitting orchestra to accompany his maddening need to crush the world, the malformed creatures, his fate, his duty and everything in between.

Emet-Selch had let himself go and his aether sung in praise for the opportunity. The Mhachi followed in his footsteps like overeager pups, utilizing the power of the void to crush their neighboring enemies. And when they fought back and the war grew more in its intensity, Emet-Selch had never felt more joyous.

It was strange but at that moment in time, he could understand Fandaniel's maddening desire to end the world. There truly was no better sight than to watch it burn. To hear the screams of death. To see the countless corpses littered the battlefield and the streets of once proud cities.

There truly was nothing more satisfying. Nothing more beautiful.

So why did his heart continue to bleed? Why did his hands still shake as he released another spell onto a group of defenseless soldiers? Why did he clench his teeth, pushed down the sense of guilt when he watched families crying over the death of their loved ones?

Why did he think of Azem then?

And why, in the dead of the night, did he not move when he sensed the presence of an assassin? Why did he continue to pretend to be asleep, unaware in his bed, when the assassin silently slipped into his chambers through his deliberately opened windows. And why did he let the assassin got close enough to raise a dagger and plunged it cleanly through his chest, through his heart?

Why did tears filled his eyes as he finally opened them to look at his killer and beheld that familiar, unmistakable hue. The hatred in those beautiful amethyst enough to bring warmth through his already cooling body, enough to bring forth more tears to blur his already darkening sight.

Why was his final thoughts then joyous and grateful in the truest sense as his life slipped away and darkness finally claimed him?

Why...did he feel such peace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short update this week. Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slight NSFW content for this chapter but nothing too explicit.

["But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways."]

Emet-Selch finally knew what’s needed to be done.

If he could neither save her nor could he escaped the shackles of his duties, then the only solution...the only real solution was for her to kill him.

Permanently.

It was a simple enough plan to enact. Azem had always been righteous, kind and caring. There was no way she wouldn't take up arms to defend the weak. And if he were to act as the villain once more...surely...surely...

But Azem's latest shard was not a hero in this lifetime. Azem's latest shard did not sprout justice or condemnation when he had flippantly informed her of his entire plan to be Garlemald's Emperor. Azem's latest shard was insistent when he tried to distance himself. Azem's latest shard was confident in her bad jokes that never failed to pull a smile out of him. Azem's latest shard was all smiles and sunshine capable of melting the very snow that covered the grounds of Ilsabard.

When Emet-Selch looked at her, he saw the sun. When Emet-Selch looked at her, he was more certain than anything that she had absolutely no place in the empire Emet-Selch was building for their next Rejoining.

When Emet-Selch looked at her, he wanted nothing more than to love her and basked in her warmth.

When Emet-Selch looked at her, he knew he shouldn't.

He shouldn't. He couldn't. Not again.

So he pushed her away harder in every way he could think of. He was needlessly cruel to her, his words biting and cold, he was dismissive when she approached him. He treated her like how he treated everyone else; unworthy creatures that shouldn't exist.

And yet...she kept pushing. She kept chasing. She kept smiling as if she could see through his facade as easily as if it were nothing more than a thin piece of paper hiding who he truly was. How it hurt him just to see the same hurt reflected in her eyes every time.

At times he would wonder if perhaps it was enough. Six times rejoined, 7 parts of a whole...was it enough for her to remember? Was it enough for her soul to react to his in the same way his always did in her presence? Was it why she was so insistent to court him?

Or some part of him, a darker part would have him believed she was doing it for the fame and fortune. The Galvus family had a considerable standing in the Republic and Emet-Selch had made a growing reputation for himself as Solus in the military. And if he had his way, he would rise to Legatus within the year and would finally have the power to enact the next part of his grand plan.

It was expected that women flocked to him like birds, currying for his favor. And for her, for Aeliana, perhaps it was the same.

Ah, who was he trying to deceive with such thoughts. He knew from the moment he saw her the kind of person she was. No gold digger would give free pastries to the homeless with nothing but a smile as payment. No gold digger would spend time in the more impoverished district, playing with orphaned children. She had always been a humble baker selling pastries nearby his private resident. A baker who so happened to be smitten to him.

All these lifetimes chasing after her fragment...to think a lifetime would come where he was the one being pursued instead.

Emet-Selch found that he didn't dislike it. No, in fact, he liked it...very much so. His heart beat faster like no other. His own face flushed as if he were young and foolish again, asking Azem if she would like to spend some time with him during lunch.

But he couldn't. He couldn't...he...

"Hey."

Emet-Selch blinked from his thoughts, feeling his head being gently tilted back to rest on her knees. Aeliana looked down at him with a smile, gentle fingers brushing the side of his face that made his heart flutter.

"Were you listening, Solus?"

He hummed, closing his eyes as her fingers continued to make him melt into a puddle of goo. She laughed, light and beautiful like a canary before feeling the soft press of her lips against his forehead.

"I'm serious." She whispered against his skin. "Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I'll make sure to cook all your favorites."

"Courting me, are you?" He cracked a single eye open to give her a look, lips tugged into one of amusement. "And what, pray tell, will you be serving me in your humble abode? Pastries I assume?"

"Why yes I am, Lord Galvus." She laughed and his heart flutter once more. "Nothing but homemade pastries for his lordship, I'm afraid. This humble peasant could serve nothing more!"

He laughed and shook his head in mock dismay, smiling as he stared into those deep dark kyanite eyes.

He shouldn't.

"So what do you say?" She asked once more, fingers lightly brushing across his third eye that sent a jolt of electricity through his veins. "Will you be coming?"

He shouldn't but...how could he deny her when she was so open in her affection? So determined to have him by her side? So insistent in pulling him back to her orbit right where he belong.

He reached up to pull her head down to him, pressing their lips together into a soft kiss.

How could he push her away when he was already so hopelessly in love with her once more.

***

In all their lifetimes together after the End, Emet-Selch had never had the opportunity to renew their vows. Their lives were either too short, or marriage being a foreign concept or in Idant's case, too risky to do anything of that nature.

When Aeliana walked down the aisle in a dazzling white gown and her golden hair shimmered under the sun, his breath caught. When their eyes met and she smiled radiantly, blue was the only color he saw. When they made their vows before their friends and family, hands clasped together, he prayed for this moment to last forever.

Please let it last forever.

***

"Are you absolutely certain?"

Aeliana rolled her eyes at his question as she continued to drag him across the hallway. "Of course I am. Why would I bring it up if I'm not?"

Emet-Selch breathed a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. "I am merely making sure there are no change of heart, my dear should your nerves get the better of you."

She turned to give him a cocked eyebrow. "Are you though?"

"Nonsense."

"Good because I'll be disappointed if the great Emperor Solus gets cold feet over something like this." She let out a teasing smirk as he rolled his eyes. They reached the throne room and the guards stationed outside saluted before pushing the large double doors to allow them entry.

Emet-Selch dismissed the remaining guards inside, ignoring the curious gaze each sent their way as the Empress continued to drag the Emperor across the red carpet and towards the throne. As soon as the loud thud from the door resounded across the huge room, Aeliana finally released his hand and excitedly sat on the throne.

"Comfortable, I hope." He raised a brow with lips curving to a smug smile. "I had commissioned only the very best and invested no small amount of gil so I dearly hope you enjoy it as well as I had."

"Well," She shifted around to test the cushion before nodding. "It's passable but not something I would sit for too long."

"Ah, a pity."

"But we're not here to test the comfort level of this cushion, are we?" She let out a suggestive smirk.

"No, we are not." He sighed and watched as she shifted in his throne one more time, both arms on the armrests and legs parted. Her sultry gaze sent a jolt of desire through him and when she ordered him to kneel, his knees buckled under him without any hesitation.

He bunched up her gown around her waist and leaned forward towards her sex to breathe in the scent of her arousal deeply, his own twitched in his pants.

"You will serve your Empress well today, won't you?" Her low, commanding voice only served to make him shudder with want.

"Yes." He replied, licking dry lips as he wound his arms around her waist so he could pull her forward and pressed his lips onto her soaked smallclothes.

In front of the people of Garlemald and the world, he was the feared Emperor whom people knelt to. But behind closed doors, where it was just the two of them, Emet-Selch would gladly kneel before her and surrender himself completely.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

***

It was surreal for him to believe that in the thousands upon thousands of years that had passed, across countless lifetimes, there would come a lifetime with her where he could totally be swept into total marital bliss. There was no threat looming in the distance - the next rejoining wouldn't be for another great many years -, no narrow minded Archbishop to stop them, no obstacles, no nothing to come in between.

It was just him and her.

This was the life he wanted. This was the joy he sought after. And when their son arrived and he held that small bundle in his arms for the first time, a single thought crept into his mind unexpectedly...

That life in this broken world wasn't so bad after all. That he could accept it as it was.

In her, he saw joy and comfort. And in their son, as that tiny hand wrapped around his finger with surprising strength, he saw hope. And a future without bloodshed. A peaceful future without burden or duty.

For the first time in a long time, his heavy heart had lightened and the burden on his shoulders, eased.

For the first time in a long time, he saw a light in the abyss he was drowning in.

Yes, he could let things go and be content with this.

***

But fate was cruel.

Or perhaps this was all part of Lord Zodiark's machinations for having heard his wavering thoughts. Or Lahabrea's. Or perhaps Elidibus. Whoever it was that had a hand in this, it didn't matter.

He's too tired to care anymore.

Too tired to harbor hope only for it to be crushed. Too tired to care only to lose it. Too tired to soldier on with no end in sight.

"My apologies for your loss, Your Radiance."

He stared at the gravestone before him, eyes following the carved letters that spelled out her name. Regret and grief weighed heavily on his heart. Familiar feelings. Familiar thoughts. History repeating itself.

He should not have left the palace, even if his presence at the Southern border was needed. He should have stayed beside her, be there for her when she was so close to delivering their second son.

But even if he had, Solus zos Galvus was a Garlean. A Garlean with no affinity to magic. A man that would still have to rely on the royal medicus to save her.

Nothing would have changed. He would still lose her to childbirth. But at the very least, he would be by her side as she passed. He would still be able to say goodbye. To tell her he loved her. To see her smile one last time.

He didn't because his duty to Garlemald sent him away. His duty to his people prevented him once again to save her.

And all that was left of her when he returned was a cold gravestone.

Again.

Emet-Selch took a shuddering breath in, the cold air only served to chill his frozen heart further. His eldest stood crying beside him while the newborn wailed in his brother's arms.

He closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged even more.

_Too tired to live..._

And when he lost his son to some silly illness later, whatever sliver of hope that still lingered in his chest died along with him.

There never was any hope to be found in this uncaring world.

There never was any reason, any meaning in the lives they - he - lived.

Death was but a mercy. Death was an illusion. Death was something he knew would never come as he took his last breath as Solus zos Galvus.

Death...was ever an unattainable wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be obvious but I structured each chapter to represent a single era so the next one will finally touch upon the eight. :D 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me thus far. <3


	8. Chapter 8

["Even though each time I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder is this the last time?  
Is that really you?  
And what if you’re perfectly happy without me?"]

"Lahabrea is gone."

Emet-Selch stared into Elidibus' cold eyes, noted the emotionless way he had declared the death of their brother, and nodded. Centuries ago, he may have cared. Centuries ago, he may even weep for the loss.

But all he had in him was an acknowledgement to the great man that Lahabrea used to be and the man he had become. Death was a mercy and he felt an inkling of jealousy towards him.

When will he ever had his due rest?

Elidibus had not shown recognition to his reminiscing of Lahabrea's creation and he was honestly not surprised. How far indeed had all of them fallen. How time had worn against their memories, their sanity, their very own soul. Perhaps it would be kinder if they had received the same fate Lahabrea had.

But death was ever unattainable and just like that, with the announcement of their brother's death, his much needed sleep was cut short and was forced back into the fray. To continue soldiering on.

Was there still any meaning left in all these?

***

Emet-Selch had heard much and more about the vaunted Warrior of Light from his brothers. Lahabrea had described her as a nuisance, a pain in the behind, a fly that had overstayed her welcome and needed to be squashed with the force of a thousand suns. And a great many other flowery descriptions that Emet-Selch had promptly tuned out of.

Lahabrea had always been wordy in his descriptions and so Emet-Selch took it with a grain of salt like so many other things the other had said throughout the eons.

Elidibus' own description, on the other hand, was concise and clipped. Straightforward and left nothing to the imagination. His words bore a warning and some advice to approach with caution. But the man had always been a worrier. It was his wont to see threat when there was naught. An over exaggeration, especially when the Warrior of Light was as mortal as all the other pitiful, fragmented beings that littered the Source and its 13 reflection.

But Elidibus was no fool and so Emet-Selch gave his cautionary words with at least a modicum of consideration. One that he had taken with more gravitas upon hearing about Lahabrea's demise at the hands of said warrior for surely, who else but the vaunted hero he had heard so much about capable of such feat?

Looking at her in his spot against the door, hidden behind the masses, he finally understood his brothers' grievances towards her. And his very own misconceptions.

Hue of the deepest, brightest blue stood out amongst the paler shade of hue surrounding her. A hue so distinctive, so familiar, his breath still hitched in his throat even after all these time.

Of course.

_Of course._

And Emet-Selch saw hope once more.

***

He had waited too long for this. Aeliana was no hero but the Warrior of Light, the great Champion of Eorzea could not be any less a hero than the very embodiment of the word itself. It was all he had hoped for. All he had ever wanted.

And finally, _finally_ , his chance had come. As if Fate or whoever up there had finally listened to his desperate pleas.

All he needed to do now was play his cards right. Be the villain the Scions already saw the Ascians as and with just the right push, death was no longer unattainable.

It was a simple plan. It was the easiest plan he’d ever came up with. The Scions had already laid down the groundwork so all he needed to do was watch and enjoy himself. Put a distance between himself and Azem's shard and death would come.

It was simple.

It was easy.

And joy filled his frozen heart enough to put bright smiles on his face as he presented himself to the Scions.

Then his eyes locked to hers and everything crumbled.

Deep amethyst stared back with a hint of amusement at his theatrics. _Right._ The wind swept her blue hair gently to the side. _Right._ She stood, relaxed, confident in between her guarded friends. _Right_.

He looked at the Warrior of Light and saw Azem. He looked at the Warrior of Light and long, lost memories of Azem came rushing back. It took everything he had to keep talking, to keep his charade up, to keep goading the Scions and enact his plans.

And when the Warrior of Light smiled at him, he knew he had already lost the battle.

Again.

Pathetic.

***

But Emet-Selch was nothing but determined. With Aeliana's death still so fresh in his mind, with the death of others still weighing heavily on his heart, he was adamant in not allowing himself to feel that again. He was resolute in preventing history from repeating itself, in falling for the same weakness and making the selfsame mistake.

He would save her this time. He _must_ save her. Even if this would be the last time with her, he would _not_ falter.

And to do that, he knew what's needed to be done. Even when he watched her from the safety of the shadows and noted all the million and one things about her that was so much like Azem. Even when he watched and found a million other things that was uniquely hers. Even when he looked and yearned and wanted nothing more than to see her smile affectionately at him and hold him close.

Emet-Selch _must not_ **falter**.

"You're staring again."

He blinked at the sweet voice and found the warrior gazing up at him with a delicately raised brow.

"Why, hello there, warrior." Emet-Selch bowed. "What can I do for a vaunted hero such as yourself?"

She tilted her head. "I had hoped you would tell me instead." She waved at him. "You'd been staring at me a lot."

"How can I not when I travel in the company of the famed Ascian slayer?" He shrugged dramatically. "I would hate to end up like poor old Lahabrea, foolish as he was to irk your ire."

"Old..." She mumbled underneath her breath, brows arched downwards in a thoughtful frown. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Why yes. He was ever a fervent lover of his own voice."

"Just like you." She said with an amused smirk.

Emet-Selch placed a hand on his chest, his voice mocking hurt. "You wound me, hero. Surely I can't be likened to one such as him."

"Perhaps." She shrugged, eyes glinting in mirth. "You are just as overly dramatic."

“I am merely emulating one of my favorite plays!” He replied, aghast. “Surely you have seen one of those rousing performances. Or have your busy schedule prevented you from ever engaging in such simple mortal pleasures?"

She frowned at his words and looked away, her once clear eyes clouded over to reflect the murky depths of those who had seen a great many battles and losses.

Eyes that reflected his own.

He hated it.

"Come sit with me, hero."

He didn't wait to see if she agreed, already moving towards the nearest tree and plopping down next to it. He was surprised to find her obeying without so much as a word of protest. A sense of trust offered to an enemy she barely knew.

He wasn’t sure what to think of this, if he should think deeper into it at all.

"Have you ever woven a flower crown before?" He asked instead, fingers snapping to create a pile of colorful flowers between them. She shook her head, all while staring at him as if he had just said something crazy. Perhaps he _had_ gone mad, but his hands had already started gathering a few flowers before his mind could comprehend it. "Allow me to show it to you, then." He said softly, memories from long ago spurring his hands on with practiced ease as his gentle instructions filled the air between them.

Nostalgia hit him hard and he found himself drowning in twelve thousand years’ worth of memories. Of teaching them new skills as they watched in rapt attention. Of wonder in their eyes and lips spread wide in joy. His throat tightened and he swallowed hard through it, forcing his voice and hands steady. To not give himself to emotions.

And when it's done, he held the finished crown up before him. "And there we have it. Perfectly made." For the most perfect being.

She leaned slightly forward, eyes wide with wonder at the crown before her. Emet-Selch reached over to remove her hat off her before replacing it with the crown. He had to smile in satisfaction at his work. It did look good on her, more so than that ugly hat she had always been wearing.

She reached up to gingerly touched the crown, a blush slowly crept up from her neck and towards the tips of her ears. For the first time, she had rewarded him with a shy giggle, free and unrestrained. Those clear amethyst eyes sparkled as they fixed on him, her lips tugged into a wide smile. His heart stopped, mesmerized at how her soul literally glittered like countless diamonds.

Familiar.

Nostalgic.

"Thank you, Emet-Selch."

He moved before he even realized it, leaning in close enough to press his lips gently on her forehead. His colorless world had once again exploded in a shower of blue, his very soul sung for the first time in years and at that moment, nothing mattered. Not his goals, not the Scions, not even the damned everlasting light bearing down on them. All there was, was her and her only.

That was until his mind finally caught up to his heart and he forced himself away. He found her staring up at him with wide eyed shock and lips parted slightly. The blush on her face had multiplied tenfold and suddenly, it was too much.

Too much.

"Forgive me." He murmured, already calling onto the void and warping away.

He's utterly pathetic.

***

Emet-Selch had dutifully hid in the shadows and away from the Warrior of Light till it was time to play his role as villain before the Scions. He had not expected the history lessons that followed upon chiding them for dawdling but looking at those murals had brought forth memories and the words spilled unbidden.

Up till then, he had not once shared what happened to the world before the Sundering with Azem's shards. They wouldn't believe him either way. They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't remember. But looking at the Warrior of Light had put in mind a single thought that she would and hope bloomed even more.

He hated how much of his defenses were tore down by her. Hope he was sure was snuffed out through the harsh reality of the life he led came burning in his chest once more. For the first time in eons, he was in serious consideration of telling her everything about Azem, about Amaurot, about them.

But as he watched her danced amongst the Scions and Night's blessed at a celebration party to welcome the night sky, another thought put a pause to the rising hope in him. He watched her laughed and smiled and he was reminded of how free Azem and all her shards were before meeting him.

Perhaps...perhaps she was happier without him. That perhaps...they never were meant to be. That the tragic lifetimes he had led with her was fate telling him in the worst way possible.

That realization put ice through his veins and an ache so deep, it crushed the very air out of him. His vision of her happy face blurred with tears as he slid down the tree he had been leaning on, hunching over himself as the crushing feeling of loneliness pulled him deep into the abyss.

None heard the broken sobs that left the lips of a man from a time forgotten.

***

Aether flowed easily between his fingertips, magic swirled and formed in accordance to his will. What was once an empty space now stood a building that reached towards the heavens, black stone glimmered beneath the wavering light from the ocean waves above.

Emet-Selch exhaled tiredly as another building came to being, one formed in the likeness of its original that he pulled from his own weakening memories. He studied the structure, frowned at the feeling that something was amiss and held his shaky hand up once more.

Slowly but surely, Amaurot came to life beneath his fingertips. His head pound from the excessive use of aether and the effort he took to recall memories long forgotten. But the feeling of loneliness edged him on and before he knew it, he had created an almost exact replica of his home under the waves of the Tempest.

The shades he created greeted him warmly as programmed and none of the conversations outside of their programming brought forth any satisfying response. His attempt to return to his home, his people via the magic he coveted so highly for had failed him.

They had only left him feeling even more lonely than before.

***

Hythlodaeus was created entirely by accident. He had no plans to create a shade of his friend, knowing the pain it would cause but in a burst of desperation, magic flowed once again and before him stood the face of someone he had not seen outside of his own dreams in eons.

All Hythlodaeus needed to say was a simple greeting, a familiar tilt of his head and the unmistakable glint in his eyes to make Emet-Selch laid his entire heart out as he wept and shared his twelve thousand years of burden all while Hythlodaeus stood there and listen.

A shade he might be but there was no denying how much he had missed his dear friend.

So when Hythlodaeus had silently nod with a sad smile, wrapping a too large arm to pull him into an embrace, Emet-Selch was shocked. The shades he created did not have the capacity to show empathy that was beyond the time capsule they were stuck in but Hythlodaeus had. He stared up into all too aware eyes and realized the mistake he made.

No, it wasn't a mistake. It was a success. He had managed the impossible in creating his friend that was every bit as he remembered him to be. Responded in the way he had expected him to.

Just like he had programmed.

"Hades?"

Emet-Selch ignored the achingly familiar call of his long forgotten name as he dragged his feet away from his old friend, away from his home, away from his failures…

...And into her bedchamber in the Pendants.

The irony of it was not lost on him. He could almost laughed out loud in bitterness. Be that he had anything left in him to even do so. All there was, was a sense of defeat as his shoulders slumped further forward. The only relief he had from this unexpected visit was finding her asleep in her bed.

The logic in his head told him to leave as silently as he came but his heart kept him there, his legs frozen in place. And the more he looked at her, the more his soul yearned to stay.

_Just this once...just this one time..._

He walked up to her bed and carefully climbed on it to lay on his side facing her, right at the edge and as far away from her as possible.

_Just this one time, please let me indulge in this one selfishness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled over the decision of whether I should name the WoL or leave her unnamed. But ultimately, I decided to leave her unnamed to highlight Emet's mental insistence on putting a distance between them. And "hero" held a very strong meaning to him in this story.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


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